Land
by Mally O'Jack
Summary: Part 1 of the Regenerations Trilogy: A look at how Paris adjusted to life back on Voyager after the S2 episode Investigations.


**A study came out recently in the UK which said that if every child had just one person who believed in them, then they would succeed in life. Something like that anyway. But it got me thinking...**

**At the same time, I was reminiscing about the season 2 ep Investigations, wondering what happened when Paris got back and what his relationships were like with the people whom he purposely misled. I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments!**

**Land**

**by Mally O'Jack**

_"...So, I'd like to apologise to anyone that I might have offended. Especially Commander Chakotay; I gave him a pretty hard time. Not that it wasn't a certain amount of fun, mind you - "_

"Computer, screen off." The screen winked into black. Chakotay stood, clenching his fists, eyes flashing. Now they knew.

* * *

Paris hit the door chime. He felt sort of high; perhaps it was the relief of dispensing with the lie at last, of finally being able to come clean, clear his name, and bask in the joy of the reveal. The door swished open, and Chakotay stood there.

"Commander," he said, smiling.

"Paris," Chakotay responded. But there was no answering smile, no welcome or invitation. Chakotay merely stood, looking at him, and it was like their first meeting on the bridge of Voyager all over again. The same expression of disdain.

He shook the feeling off, folded his arms. "I wanted to come and apologise - "

"I already saw your apology," Chakotay said flatly, cutting him off. "On Breakfast with Neelix."

A couple of crewmen walked past, Maquis, and they looked over at himself and Chakotay, took in the situation. He studied the floor, feeling exposed. When he met Chakotay's eye again, he was shocked to see the Commander smiling a little. As if he were enjoying his discomfort.

_Give me a break_, he said inwardly, _I've been busting my gut since day one and you don't even see it._

But what he said was, "I wanted to apologise personally. I know I was a pain in the ass..." His tone was light but he looked at Chakotay, expectantly.

Chakotay was a stone. "Apology noted. If you'll excuse me." And he stepped back.

A roar of disappointment, and perhaps it showed, because Chakotay suddenly looked away as the door swished closed.

Paris lingered for a moment, and then he turned and left.

* * *

In the evening of that day, Paris made his way to Sandrine's, where Harry had invited him for a welcome home drink. He felt unsettled. It was like he was back, but at the same time, not. The Doctor had told him to rest on account of the concussion he'd sustained, and on the couple of times he dozed off, he'd had some weird dreams. Like he'd been back in the Kazon shuttle but was unable to find Voyager. Or he'd board Voyager only to find it deserted.

He looked forward to some human contact, and to seeing Harry again, his touchstone.

He entered Sandrine's and saw that Harry and B'Elanna were there already, sitting huddled over a table. His smile faltered as he made his way over to greet them, a few crewmen stopping him on the way to shake his hand. He reached the table. Even though Harry jumped up and shook his hand, he had a strange look in his eyes. He seemed oddly constrained. B'Elanna nodded curtly at him. "Paris."

They all looked at each other for a moment, and then Paris said, "What are you guys drinking?"

"I'll get them," Harry said, but Paris waved him off.

He came back from the bar, and caught the look exchanged between his friends. "Sandrine's finest," he said, a little too loudly, placing the glasses on the table. He picked one up. "To friendship."

"To friendship," echoed Harry and B'Elanna, and their glasses clinked.

"So," Harry said, breaking the awkward silence, "how does it feel to be back?"

"Never better, Harry," he said, trying to sound light-hearted, although he was obscurely aware that B'Elanna was cross. No, strike that. She was mad. "The Talaxian ship had the worst food ever, and the Kazon didn't seem to have any, so let's hear it for Starfleet replicators..." He was speaking somewhat at random; he was painfully aware that he was acting a part still, and that Harry and B'Elanna were acting too.

He cleared his throat. "Listen," he began, but B'Elanna cut him off. "We saw your interview this morning." It was as if she was challenging him.

"Yeah," he said, leaning back, "Neelix wanted a little closure on the story. Apparently he'd been running it whilst I was away?"

"He turned reporter," Harry said, a half-smile.

"Huh. Guess he's gone off security then."

"He said some really nice things about you when you left. You should listen to it."

He rubbed his neck self-consciously. "I will."

Harry smiled at him then. "It's good to have you back, Tom."

He grinned at his friend. And then, because it was Harry, and because he was tired, and because he was upset about Chakotay, he said lightly, "Not everyone thinks so."

Harry tilted his head, questioning. He looked down at his glass, striving to sound casual. "Chakotay was royally pissed when I saw him earlier."

"What do you expect?" said B'Elanna suddenly. "You made him look a fool in front of the whole crew this morning."

"What do you mean?" he said, defensive.

"You practically announced to everyone he wasn't privy to your secret plan. Why wasn't he by the way?"

"B'Elanna," muttered Harry.

"It wasn't up to me," Paris said, feeling his face grow hot. "Of course I wanted to tell him, but the Captain and Tuvok thought it'd be more authentic - ."

She snorted. "Classic Starfleet. Janeway doesn't trust anyone except her own."

Now _he_ was mad. "Hey, I risked my neck over this, and you're forgetting that the traitor was a Maquis. Looks like Chakotay can't even keep his own crew in order -"

B'Elanna banged her glass down hard on the table. People were looking over.

"Guys," Harry said hurriedly, "this is meant to be a party, remember?"

"Right," she said, and she stood up, nearly knocking her chair over. "Welcome home, Paris." She stormed out.

There was a hush. He heard the accordion for the first time playing in the background, and it grated on him. Then people began to talk again, murmuring.

"She didn't mean that," said Harry, quietly. "You know how defensive she gets about the Commander."

He nodded, swallowing painfully, smiling for Harry's sake.

"And..." Harry was looking awkward now.

"And?"

Harry fidgeted with the beer mats, and didn't look him in the eye. "She has trust issues, all the Maquis do." He cleared his throat. "She thinks you played us."

He was taken aback, and didn't know what to say. His head was beginning to ache.

"She'll cool off in a few days. We know it was for the good of the ship."

He flinched slightly at the 'we'. So Harry thought the same, that he'd played them both. As if he'd had a choice. The Ensign didn't seem to notice his slip, and continued -"We were worried about you. All that stuff you said about not fitting in, and your past -."

He downed his synthehol and stood up. "I should go."

"Tom, no - "

"It's fine," he said, cutting off his friend. "See, I hit my head when I was trying to pilot the Kazon shuttle." He forced a laugh. "Hit it twice, actually; the Doc told me to take it easy, so I should get an early night."

Harry looked distressed. "I'll walk with you -"

"No, you should stay." He gestured to Sandrine's; "Enjoy the party." He noticed with a jolt that there were no Maquis present. "See you tomorrow, Harry."

* * *

Kim watched his friend leave, ignoring the curious looks around him. Tom acted like he was invincible pretty much most of the time, but he'd heard the catch in Tom's voice when he mentioned Chakotay, had seen the flicker of hurt after he'd tried to excuse B'Elanna's behaviour. Tom had told him to stay... but since when had he ever done what Tom told him to?

He caught up with his friend in the corridor. "Tom," he said, snagging his arm.

Paris turned. In the harsh lighting, he looked exhausted. "What, Harry?"

Harry gestured with his head, pulling the pilot into a quieter part of the corridor. Paris folded his arms and leant against the bulkhead, looking down at the floor. He was at the same height as Harry now, and this gave Harry a feeling of authority.

"I'm not letting you do this," he said firmly to the blonde, bowed head. "It's not your fault."

"It is my fault," Paris said, so quietly that Harry had to duck a little to hear him. "I knew exactly what to say. I wanted to get the best performance."

"Well, good. If you'd let me in on your plan beforehand, I would've ruined it. You know how bad an actor I am." Harry spoke lightly, but inside he was a little shaken. For once, Tom Paris was saying exactly what he meant.

Paris raised his head then, and his eyes were bright. "It's the story of my life, Harry. People trust me, and I let them down." His voice was low, monotone. "My friends trusted me to keep the shuttle in the air over Caldek Prime. Chakotay trusted me to fly his ship without getting caught. My dad trusted me to become a good Starfleet officer." His breath hitched, and his voice wavered, but he kept going. "I think people were really starting to trust me on Voyager, and now I've blown it." He stared at Harry, almost confrontationally, as if daring him to contradict it. Instead, Harry looked him straight in the eye.

"I trust you."

And there it was again – the same extraordinary expression that he'd only seen once before in his friend. _"I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me." _And Paris had looked at him like – well, like he was looking at him now.

Harry smiled, a silent question in his expression. A slight answering smile from Paris, and a nod. The pilot pushed himself away from the bulkhead. Harry slapped him on the back as they started walking.

They were nearing the crew quarters when Harry said, "I've had an idea how you can get back into the Commander's good books."

"Oh?"

"The next time we go planet-side, I'll push him down a stairwell and you can save his life again."

Paris laughed then, to Harry's relief. "Yeah, that oughta do it."

They reached the point where the corridors intersected. Harry looked at Paris, but rather shyly. Paris seemed normal again, invincible, and so Harry said, "Night, Tom." He turned away, but then Paris called his name.

"Hey, Harry."

He turned.

Paris was stood, watching him. "Thanks," he said, and there was none of the usual irony, sarcasm or amusement.

Harry nodded. "Welcome home."

_It is to discover land_

_In the eyes of another._

_It is to see that he understands you._

_Finis_


End file.
